


The Prat and The Idiot (The Tears of Uther Pendragon)

by Mauricio



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Merthur Party 2013, One Shot, based on canon era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauricio/pseuds/Mauricio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot for Merthur Party 2013, for the prompt "the Prat and the Idiot".<br/>Essentially taking season 3 episode 1 and adding a touch more Merthur</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prat and The Idiot (The Tears of Uther Pendragon)

The party had been riding for the better part of a day and to say Merlin was uncomfortable was an understatement. Not to mention being sick to the back teeth of Arthur’s “nobler-than-thou” attitude. Shifting slightly in the saddle, Merlin let out a sigh of irritation.

“Is there something wrong Merlin?” Arthur inquired, all sweetness, light and cheekbones. The perfect image of a prince. He looked as if he’d been born in the saddle, even with full armour on. Well technically he had. Uther had taught Arthur to joust before he could say “please” and “thank you” - something that was particularly evident now. Merlin himself on the other hand… he much preferred walking. Much closer to the ground.

“Well I’ve been on a horse all day.” Merlin complained.  
“Aw, is your little bottom sore?” Arthur shot back with a smirk.  
Merlin nearly fell off his horse. You couldn’t just say stuff like that out loud! They had an entire battalion of knights bringing up the rear and it was impossible to miss the teasing glint in Arthur’s eyes as he calmly regarded his servant.  
“Yes well, it’s not as fat as yours,” floundered Merlin frantically, in a desperate attempt to regain his composure.  
Arthur’s gaze gained an element of steel as he turned to glare at Merlin. “You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve for a wimp.”  
Merlin grabbed convulsively for the reins as his horse stumbled over a tree root, words slipping out unencumbered by rational thought. “I may be a wimp but at least I’m not a dollophead”.  
Instantly he regretted it. If Arthur didn’t put him in the stocks, he was guaranteed to be washing the knights undergarments for a week.  
“There’s no such word,” Arthur replied in a voice full of disbelief.  
With an inward sigh of regret, Merlin gave up any chance of being redeemed. “It’s idiomatic!” he declared, riding over Arthur’s muttered postulations. “You need to be more in touch with the people.”  
“Describe dollop head,” Arthur ground out, giving each word more emphasis than was strictly necessary.  
“In two words?” with a barely disguised roll of the eyes and resignation to his fate, Merlin complied.  
“Prince Arthur.”

Just as his punishment was about to fall, Arthur held up a hand. They’d stumbled upon what appeared to be the wreckage of a camp, burnt out huts littering the forest floor. The group dismounted, only the sound of clinking armour and unsheathed swords disturbing the motionless air.  
And then they were upon them.

***

Back at the castle that evening, after all the relief and excitement, Merlin attended his duty, undressing his prince and soothing a balm over the worst of the bruises from their earlier skirmish. Pushing down his fears, he simply revelled in the soft touch of Arthur’s skin, smoothing away the exhaustion in his shoulders as the candlelight reduced everything to a pale glow.

Startling Merlin out of his reverie, Arthur pulled him down into his lap, trapping the other man within the circle of his arms.  
“Dollophead? Really?” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s hair, his fingers sliding underneath his shirt and ghosting up over his back.  
Merlin shivered. “Oh shut up”, he sighed, any harshness behind the words lost as he let out a quiet moan.  
Arthur shifted again, sending Merlin’s world spinning until he was flatout on the bed, with Arthur’s satisfied face looming above him.  
“Well if anyone’s a dollophead ,” Arthur continued, nipping at his servant’s neck and eliciting a stream of sighs and whines. “It’s you. You fell over more times than I could count in that battle. In fact I don’t think I saw you uprig-”  
His last words were swallowed up by Merlin pulling his face down for a deep kiss, the tension melting away in the taste, the touch, the feel of Arthur.  
The Crown prince of Camelot drew back with a strange expression on his face, as he gazed at his idiot. If Merlin didn’t know him better, he would say it was bordering on affection.  
Then he smiled wickedly.  
“Now I’m definitely going to make your little bottom sore.” He smirked, bending to bestow another kiss.  
The last comprehensive thought in Merlin’s head that night was that Arthur was a complete prat, and he was completely in love with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thank yous to my betas for this!  
> Also Team Orange was awesome, even if I left everything to the last minute and didn't talk as much as I would've liked.


End file.
